certainty for an uncertainty. The Americans in California actually
started for Sonora with less than fifty men, with vague promises of
recruits by sea. The records of the ferryman on the Colorado River show
that they crossed the river with only forty-two men and a boy.

With this meager force these infatuated and misguided men pushed one
hundred and thirty-two miles across a barren desert to the boundary line
of Mexico at the Sonoita (Clover Creek), where there is a little stream
of water struggling for existence in the sands. At the Sonoita the
invaders were met by a proclamation from Pesquiera, forwarded through
Redondo, the Prefect of Altar, warning them not to enter the State of
Sonora. When men have resolved on destruction, reason is useless, and
they paid no attention to the order, and crossed the boundary line of
Mexico with arms and in hostile array. When they reached the vicinity of
Altar they diverged from the main road to the west, and took the road to
Caborca.

The only possible reason for this movement is that they may have
expected reinforcements by sea, as Caborca is the nearest settlement to
a little port called Libertad, where small ships could land. Be this as
it may, no reinforcements ever came: and this little handful of
Americans soon found themselves hemmed in at the little town of Caborca
without hope or succor. They were the very first gentlemen of the
States, mostly of good families, good education, and good prospects in
California. What inhuman demon ever induced them to place themselves in
such position, God only knows. Many of them left their wives and
families in California, and all of them had warm friends there.

Pesquiera issued a bloodthirsty proclamation, in the usual grandiloquent
language of Spain, calling all patriotic Mexicans to arms, to